THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


'       — 


POEMS 

BY 

EMILY    DICKINSON 

THIRD   SERIES 


EMILY   DICKINSON'S   POEMS. 

Edited  by  two  of  her  friends.  Mabel   Laomis 
Todd  and  T.  W.  Higginson. 

FIRST  AND  SECOND  SERIES.  i6mo,  cloth, 
price  of  each,  $1.25  ;  white  and  green 
cloth,  full  gilt,  price  of  each,  $1.50. 


ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 
Boston. 


POEMS 


EMILY    DICKINSON 


EUttcD  bg 
MABEL   LOOMIS  TODD 


THIRD  SERIES 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS 
1896 


Copyright,  1S9G, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


SECOND    EDITION. 


JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.  S.  A. 


?5 


M 

|3 

JeC.3 


TT  's  all  I  have  to  bring  to-day, 

This,  and  my  heart  beside, 
This,  and  my  heart,  and  all  the  fields, 

And  all  the  meadows  wide. 
Be  sure  you  count,  should  I  forget, — 

Some  one  the  sum  could  tell, — 
This,  and  my  heart,  and  all  the  bees 

Which  in  the  clover  dwell. 


PREFACE. 


'"PHE  intellectual  activity  of  Emily  Dickinson  was 
so  great  that  a  large  and  characteristic  choice 
is  still  possible  among  her  literary  material,  and  this 
third  volume  of  her  verses  is  put  forth  in  response 
to  the  repeated  wish  of  the  admirers  of  her  peculiar 
genius. 

Much  of  Emily  Dickinson's  prose  was  rhythmic, 
—  even  rhymed,  though  frequently  not  set  apart  in 
lines.  Also  many  verses,  written  as  such,  were  sent 
to  friends  in  letters;  these  were  published  in  1894, 
in  the  volumes  of  her  Letters.  It  has  not  been 
necessary,  however,  to  include  them  in  this  Series, 
and  all  have  been  omitted,  except  three  or  four 
exceptionally  strong  ones,  as  "  A  Book,"  and  "  With 
Flowers." 


viii  PREFACE. 

There  is  internal  evidence  that  many  of  the  poems 
were  simply  spontaneous  flashes  of  insight,  appar- 
ently unrelated  to  outward  circumstance.  Others, 
however,  had  an  obvious  personal  origin ;  for  example, 
the  verses  "I  had  a  Guinea  golden,"  which  seem  to 
have  been  sent  to  some  friend  travelling  in  Europe, 
as  a  dainty  reminder  of  letter-writing  delinquencies. 
The  surroundings  in  which  any  of  Emily  Dickinson's 
verses  are  known  to  have  been  written  usually  serve 
to  explain  them  clearly;  but  in  general  the  present 
volume  is  full  of  thoughts  needing  no  interpretation 
to  those  who  apprehend  this  scintillating  spirit. 

M.  L.  T. 

AMHERST,  October,  1896. 


CONTENTS. 


PRELUDE    v 

PREFACE vii 

BOOK   I.  — LIFE.  PAGE 

I.    Real  Riches 13 

II.     Superiority  to  Fate 14 

III.  Hope 15 

IV.  Forbidden  Fruit  (i) 16 

V.     Forbidden  Fruit  (2) 17 

VI.    A  Word 18 

VII.     "  To  venerate  the  simple  days  " 19 

VIII.     Life's  Trades 20 

IX.     "  Drowning  is  not  so  pitiful  " 21 

X.     "  How  still  the  bells  in  steeples  stand  "     ....  22 

XI.     " If  the  foolish  call  them  ' flowers '" 23 

XII.     A  Syllable       25 


2  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XIII.  Parting 26 

XIV.  Aspiration 27 

XV.  The  Inevitable 28 

XVI.  A  Book 29 

XVII.  "  Who  has  not  found  the  heaven  below  "  .     .  30 

XVIII.  A  Portrait 31 

XIX.  I  had  a  Guinea  Golden 32 

.   XX.  Saturday  Afternoon 34 

XXI.  "  Few  get  enough,  —  enough  is  one  "    •     •     •  35 

XXII.  "  Upon  the  gallows  hung  a  wretch  "      ...  36 

XXIII.  The  Lost  Thought 37 

XXIV.  Reticence 38 

XXV.  With  Flowers 39 

XXVI.  "  The  farthest  thunder  that  I  heard  "...  40 

XXVII.  "  On  the  bleakness  of  my  lot " 41 

XXVIII.  Contrast 42 

XXIX.  Friends 43 

XXX.  Fire 44 

XXXI.  A  Man 45 

XXXII.  Ventures 46 

XXXIII.  Griefs 47 

XXXIV.  "  I  have  a  king  who  does  not  speak  "   ...  49 


CONTENTS.  3 

PAGE 

XXXV.     Disenchantment 50 

XXXVI.     Lost  Faith 51 

XXXVII.     Lost  Joy 52 

XXXVIII.  "  I  worked  for  chaff,  and  earning  wheat  "      .  53 

XXXIX.     "  Life,  and  Death,  and  Giants  " 54 

XL.     Alpine  Glow       -55 

XLI.     Remembrance 56 

XLII.     "  To  hang  our  head  ostensibly  " 57 

XLIII.     The  Brain       58 

XLIV.  "  The  bone  that  has  no  marrow  "     ....  59 

XLV.     The  Past 60 

XLVI.     "  To  help  our  bleaker  parts  " 61 

XLVII.  "  What  soft,  cherubic  creatures  "      ....  62 

XLVIII.     Desire 63 

XLIX.     Philosophy 64 

L.     Power 65 

LI.  "  A  modest  lot,  a  fame  petite " .     .     .     .     .     .  66 

LIL    "  Is  bliss,  then,  such  abyss  " 67 

LI  1 1.     Experience 68 

LIV.     Thanksgiving  Day 69 

LV.     Childish  Griefs 70 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK   II.  — LOVE. 

PAGE 

I.  Consecration 73 

II.  Love's  Humility 74 

III.  Love 75 

IV.  Satisfied 76 

V.  With  a  Flower 78 

VI.  Song 79 

VII.  Loyalty 80 

VIII.  "  To  lose  thee,  sweeter  than  to  gain"    .     .     .  81 

IX.  "  Poor  little  heart  I "      .     .     . 82 

X.  Forgotten 83 

XI.  "  I  've  got  an  arrow  here  " 85 

XII.  The  Master 86 

XIII.  "  Heart,  we  will  forget  him  !  " 87 

XIV.  "Father,  I  bring  thee  not  myself"     ....  88 
XV.  "  We  outgrow  love,  like  other  things"   ...  89 

XVI.  "  Not  with  a  club  the  heart  is  broken  "...  90 

XVII.  Who? 91 

XVIII.  "  He  touched  me,  so  I  live  to  know  "...  92 

XIX.  Dreams 93 

XX.  Numen  Lumen 94 


CONTENTS.  5 

PAGB 

XXI.     Longing 95 

XXII.     Wedded 97 


BOOK   III.  — NATURE. 

I.  Nature's  Changes 101 

II.  The  Tulip 102 

III.  "  A  light  exists  in  spring  " 103 

IV.  The  Waking  Year 105 

V.  To  March 106 

VI.  March 108 

VII.  Dawn 109 

VIII.  "  A  murmur  in  the  trees  to  note  "      .    .     .    .  1 10 

IX.  "  Morning  is  the  place  for  dew  " "2 

X.  "To  my  quick  ears  the  leaves  conferred  "  .     .  113 

XI.  A  Rose    .    .   * "4 

XII.  "  High  from  the  earth  I  heard  a  bird  "  .     .    .  115 

XIII.  Cobwebs "6 

XIV.  A  Well        "7 

XV.  "  To  make  a  prairie  it  takes  a  clover  "    ...  119 

XVI.  The  Wind 120 

XVII.  "  A  dew  sufficed  itself " 121 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XVIII.    The  Woodpecker 122 

XIX.     A  Snake 123 

XX.     "  Could  I  but  ride  indefinite  " 124 

XXL    The  Moon 125 

XXII.     The  Bat       127 

XXIII.  The  Balloon 128 

XXIV.  Evening 130 

XXV.    Cocoon 131 

XXVI.     Sunset 132 

XXVII.     Aurora 133 

XXVIII.    The  Coming  of  Night .134 

XXIX.     Aftermath 136 


BOOK   IV.  — TIME   AND   ETERNITY. 

I.  "  This  world  is  not  conclusion  " 139 

II.  "  We  learn  in  the  retreating" 140 

III.  "  They  say  that  '  time  assuages '"      ....  141 

IV.  "  We  cover  thee,  sweet  face  " 142 

V.  Ending 143 

VI.  "  The  stimulus,  beyond  the  grave  "    ....  144 

VII.  "  Given  in  marriage  unto  thee  " 145 


CONTENTS.  7 
PAGE 

VIII.  "  That  such  have  died  enables  us  "     ....  146 

IX.  "They  won't  frown   always,  — some   sweet 

day" 147 

X.    Immortality H8 

XI.  "  The  distance  that  the  dead  have  gone  "  .    .  149 

XII.    "  How  dare  the  robins  sing  " 15° 

XIII.  Death l$l 

XIV.  Unwarned i52 

XV.  "  Each  that  we  lose  takes  part  of  us  "    .     .    .  153 

XVI.  "  Not  any  higher  stands  the  grave  "  ....  154 

XVII.     Asleep 155 

XVIII.    The  Spirit IS6 

XIX.    The  Monument 157 

XX.  "  Bless  God,  he  went  as  soldiers  "     ....  158 

XXI.     "  Immortal  is  an  ample  word  " 159 

XXII.  "  Where  every  bird  is  bold  to  go "     .    .    .    .  160 

XXIII.  "  The  grave  my  little  cottage  is  " 161 

XXIV.  "  This  was  in  the  white  of  the  year  "...  162 
XXV.  "  Sweet  hours  have  perished  here  "        ...  163 

XXVI.  "Me!     Come!     My  dazzled  face "    ....  164 

XXVII.     Invisible l65 

XXVIII.  "  I  wish  I  knew  that  woman's  name  "     .     .     .  166 


8  CONTENl^S. 

PAGE 

XXIX.  Trying  to  Forget 167 

XXX.  "  I  felt  a  funeral  in  my  brain  " iCS 

XXXI.  "  I  meant  to  find  her  when  I  came  "...  169 

XXXII.  Waiting        170 

XXXIII.  "  A  sickness  of  this  world  it  most  occasions  "  171 

XXXIV.  "  Superfluous  were  the  sun " 172 

XXXV.  "  So  proud  she  was  to  die  " 173 

XXXVI.  Farewell 174 

XXXVII.  "  The  dying  need  but  little,  dear"       ...  175 

XXXVIII.  Dead 176 

XXXIX.  "The  soul  should  always  stand  ajar"      .     .  177 

XL.  "  Three  weeks  passed  since  I  had  seen  her  "  178 

XLI.  "  I  breathed  enough  to  learn  the  trick  "  .    .  179 

XLII.  "I  wonder  if  the  sepulchre" 180 

XLIII.  Joy  in  Death 181 

XLIV.  "If  I  may  have  it  when  it's  dead"     ...  182 

XLV.  "  Before  the  ice  is  in  the  poo's  "     ....  183 

XLVI.  Dying 184 

XLVII.  "Adrift!     A  little  boat  adrift !"     ....  185 

XLVIII.  "There's  been  a  death  in  the  opposite  house"  186 

XLIX.  "We  never  know  we  go,  —  when  we  are 

going" 188 


CONTENTS.  9 

PACK 

L.     The  Soul's  Storm 189 

LI.     "  Water  is  taught  by  thirst " 190 

LI  I.     Thirst 191 

LI II.     "  A  clock  stopped  —  not  the  mantel's  "   .     .  192 

LIV.    Charlotte  Bronte's  Grave 193 

LV.     "A  toad  can  die  of  light !" 195 

LVI.     "  Far  from  love  the  Heavenly  Father  "    .     .  196 

LVII.     Sleeping 197 

LVIII.     Retrospect 198 

LIX.     Eternity 200 


I. 

LIFE. 


POEMS. 


i. 

REAL  RICHES. 

'  HP  IS  little  I  could  care  for  pearls 
•*•       Who  own  the  ample  sea ; 

Or  brooches,  when  the  Emperor 
With  rubies  pelteth  me ; 

Or  gold,  who  am  the  Prince  of  Mines ; 

Or  diamonds,  when  I  see 
A  diadem  to  fit  a  dome 

Continual  crowning  me. 


14  POEMS. 


II. 
SUPERIORITY  TO   FATE. 

OUPERIORITY  to  fate 
^     Is  difficult  to  learn. 
'T  is  not  conferred  by  any, 
But  possible  to  earn 

A  pittance  at  a  time, 
Until,  to  her  surprise, 

The  soul  with  strict  economy 
Subsists  till  Paradise. 


POEMS.  1 5 


III. 

HOPE. 

T  T  OPE  is  a  subtle  glutton  ; 
*•  •*•      He  feeds  upon  the  fair ; 
And  yet,  inspected  closely, 
What  abstinence  is  there  ! 

His  is  the  halcyon  table 
That  never  seats  but  one, 

And  whatsoever  is  consumed 
The  same  amounts  remain. 


1 6  POEMS. 


IV. 
FORBIDDEN    FRUIT. 

i. 

T^ORBIDDEN  fruit  a  flavor  has 
•^        That  lawful  orchards  mocks  ; 
How  luscious  lies  the  pea  within 
The  pod  that  Duty  locks  ! 


POEMS.  17 

V. 

FORBIDDEN    FRUIT. 

ii. 

T_T  EAVEN  is  what  I  cannot  reach  ! 
A  A     The  apple  on  the  tree, 
Provided  it  do  hopeless  hang, 
That  'heaven  '  is,  to  me. 

The  color  on  the  cruising  cloud, 

The  interdicted  ground 
Behind  the  hill,  the  house  behind,  — 

There  Paradise  is  found  ! 


1 8  POEMS. 


A 


VI. 

A  WORD. 

WORD  is  dead 
When  it  is  said, 

Some  say. 
I  say  it  just 
Begins  to  live 

That  day. 


POEMS.  19 


VII. 

'""TO  venerate  the  simple  days 

Which  lead  the  seasons  by, 
Needs  but  to  remember 

That  from  you  or  me 
They  may  take  the  trifle 

Termed  mortality  ! 

To  invest  existence  with  a  stately  air, 
Needs  but  to  remember 

That  the  acorn  there 
Is  the  egg  of  forests 

For  the  upper  air  ! 


2Q  POEMS. 


VIII. 
LIFE'S  TRADES. 

IT  's  such  a  little  thing  to  weep, 
So  short  a  thing  to  sigh  ; 
And  yet  by  trades  the  size  of  these 
We  men  and  women  die  ! 


POEMS.  2 1 


IX. 

•pvROWNING  is  not  so  pitiful 
•"-^     As  the  attempt  to  rise. 
Three  times,  't  is  said,  a  sinking  man 

Comes  up  to  face  the  skies, 
And  then  declines  forever 

To  that  abhorred  abode 
Where  hope  and  he  part  company,  — 

For  he  is  grasped  of  God. 
The  Maker's  cordial  visage, 

However  good  to  see, 
Is  shunned,  we  must  admit  it, 

Like  an  adversity. 


POEMS. 


T  T  OW  still  the  bells  in  steeples  stand, 

Till,  swollen  with  the  sky, 
They  leap  upon  their  silver  feet 
In  frantic  melody ! 


POEMS.  23 


XL 

T  F  the  foolish  call  them  '  flowers,' 

Need  the  wiser  tell? 
If  the  savans  '  classify  '  them, 
It  is  just  as  well ! 

Those  who  read  the  Revelations 

Must  not  criticise 
Those  who  read  the  same  edition 

With  beclouded  eyes  ! 

Could  we  stand  with  that  old  Moses 

Canaan  denied,  — 
Scan,  like  him,  the  stately  landscape 

On  the  other  side,  — 

Doubtless  we  should  deem  superfluous 

Many  sciences 
Not  pursued  by  learned  angels 

In  scholastic  skies  ! 


24  POEMS. 

Low  amid  that  glad  Belles  lettres 
Grant  that  we  may  stand, 

Stars,  amid  profound  Galaxies, 
At  that  grand  '  Right  hand ' ! 


POEMS.  25 


XII. 
A  SYLLABLE. 

f~*  OULD  mortal  lip  divine 
^     The  undeveloped  freight 
Of  a  delivered  syllable, 

T  would  crumble  with  the  weight 


26  POEMS. 


XIII. 
PARTING. 

A/T  Y  life  closed  twice  before  its  close ; 
•^    _      It  yet  remains  to  see 
If  Immortality  unveil 
A  third  event  to  me, 

So  huge,  so  hopeless  to  conceive, 

As  these  that  twice  befell. 
Parting  is  all  we  know  of  heaven. 

And  all  we  need  of  hell. 


POEMS.  27 


XIV. 
ASPIRATION. 

T  X  7E  never  know  how  high  we  are 

*  V      Till  we  are  called  to  rise ; 
And  then,  if  we  are  true  to  plan, 
Our  statures  touch  the  skies. 

The  heroism  we  recite 

Would  be  a  daily  thing, 
Did  not  ourselves  the  cubits  warp 

For  fear  to  be  a  king. 


28  POEMS. 


XV. 
THE   INEVITABLE. 

TX7HILE  I  was  fearing  it,  it  came, 
V  *       But  came  with  less  of  fear, 
Because  that  fearing  it  so  long 

Had  almost  made  it  dear. 
There  is  a  fitting  a  dismay, 

A  fitting  a  despair. 
'Tis  harder  knowing  it  is  due, 

Than  knowing  it  is  here. 
The  trying  on  the  utmost, 

The  morning  it  is  new, 
Is  terribler  than  wearing  it 

A  whole  existence  through. 


POEMS.  29 


XVI. 
A  BOOK. 


is  no  frigate  like  a  book 
•*•      To  take  us  lands  away, 
Nor  any  coursers  like  a  page 

Of  prancing  poetry. 
This  traverse  may  the  poorest  take 

Without  oppress  of  toll  ; 
How  frugal  is  the  chariot 
That  bears  a  human  soul  ! 


3O  POEMS. 


XVII. 

WHO  has  not  found  the  heaven  below 
Will  fail  of  it  above. 
God's  residence  is  next  to  mine, 
His  furniture  is  love. 


POEMS.  3 1 


XVIII. 
A   PORTRAIT. 

A  FACE  devoid  of  love  or  grace, 
A  hateful,    hard,  successful  face, 
A  face  with  which  a  stone 
Would  feel  as  thoroughly  at  ease 
As  were  they  old  acquaintances,  — 
First  time  together  thrown. 


32  POEMS. 

XIX. 

I   HAD   A  GUINEA  GOLDEN. 

T   HAD  a  guinea  golden ; 
•*•     I  lost  it  in  the  sand, 
And  though  the  sum  was  simple, 
And  pounds  were  in  the  land, 
Still  had  it  such  a  value 

Unto  my  frugal  eye, 
That  when  I  could  not  find  it 
I  sat  me  down  to  sigh. 

I  had  a  crimson  robin 

Who  sang  full  many  a  day, 
But  when  the  woods  were  painted 

He,  too,  did  fly  away. 
Time  brought  me  other  robins,  — 

Their  ballads  were  the  same,  — 
Still  for  my  missing  troubadour 

I  kept  the  '  house  at  hame.' 


POEMS.  33 

I  had  a  star  in  heaven  ; 

One  Pleiad  was  its  name, 
And  when  I  was  not  heeding 

It  wandered  from  the  same. 
And  though  the  skies  are  crowded, 

And  all  the  night  ashine, 
I  do  not  care  about  it, 

Since,  none  of  them  are  mine. 

My  story  has  a  moral : 

I  have  a  missing  friend,  — 
Pleiad  its  name,  and  robin, 

And  guinea  in  the  sand,  — 
And  when  this  mournful  ditty, 

Accompanied  with  tear, 
Shall  meet  the  eye  of  traitor 

In  country  far  from  here, 
Grant  that  repentance  solemn 

May  seize  upon  his  mind, 
And  he  no  consolation 

Beneath  the  sun  may  find. 

NOTE.  —  This  poem  may  have  had,  like  many  others,  a  per- 
sonal origin.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  it  was  sent  to 
some  friend  travelling  in  Europe,  a  dainty  reminder  of  letter- 
writing  delinquencies. 

3 


34  POEMS. 


XX. 

SATURDAY   AFTERNOON. 

T^ROM  all  the  jails  the  boys  and  girls 
•""       Ecstatically  leap,  — 
Beloved,  only  afternoon 
That  prison  does  n't  keep. 

They  storm  the  earth  and  stun  the  air, 

A  mob  of  solid  bliss. 
Alas  !  that  frowns  could  lie  in  wait 

For  such  a  foe  as  this  ! 


POEMS. 


35 


XXI. 


"pEW  get  enough,  —  enough  is  one ; 
*       To  that  ethereal  throng 
Have  not  each  one  of  us  the  right 
To  stealthily  belong  ? 


36  POEMS. 


XXII. 

T  7  PON  the  gallows  hung  a  wretch, 
Sr      Too  sullied  for  the  hell 
To  which  the  law  entitled  him. 

As  nature's  curtain  fell 
The  one  who  bore  him  tottered  in, 

For  this  was  woman's  son. 
'  'T  was  all  I  had,'  she  stricken  gasped ; 

Oh,  what  a  livid  boon  ! 


POEMS.  37 


XXIII. 
THE  LOST  THOUGHT. 

T  FELT  a  clearing  in  my  mind 
•*•     As  if  my  brain  had  split ; 
I  tried  to  match  it,  seam  by  seam, 
But  could  not  make  them  fit. 

The  thought  behind  I  strove  to  join 
Unto  the  thought  before, 

But  sequence  ravelled  out  of  reach 
Like  balls  upon  a  floor. 


38  POEMS. 

XXIV. 
RETICENCE. 

rpHE  reticent  volcano  keeps 
-*•       His  never  slumbering  plan ; 
Confided  are  his  projects  pink 
To  no  precarious  man. 

If  nature  will  not  tell  the  tale 

Jehovah  told  to  her, 
Can  human  nature  not  survive 

Without  a  listener? 

Admonished  by  her  buckled  lips 
Let  every  babbler  be. 

The  only  secret  people  keep 
Is  Immortality. 


POEMS.  39 


XXV. 
WITH  FLOWERS. 

T  F  recollecting  were  forgetting, 
•*•     Then  I  remember  not ; 
And  if  forgetting,  recollecting, 

How  near  I  had  forgot ! 
And  if  to  miss  were  merry, 

And  if  to  mourn  were  gay, 
How  very  blithe  the  fingers 

That  gathered  these  to-day  ! 


4O  POEMS. 


XXVI. 

HTHE  farthest  thunder  that  I  heard 
•^      Was  nearer  than  the  sky, 
And  rumbles  still,  though  torrid  noons 

Have  lain  their  missiles  by. 
The  lightning  that  preceded  it 

Struck  no  one  but  myself, 
But  I  would  not  exchange  the  bolt 

For  all  the  rest  of  life. 
Indebtedness  to  oxygen 

The  chemist  may  repay, 
But  not  the  obligation 

To  electricity. 
It  founds  the  homes  and  decks  the  days, 

And  every  clamor  bright 
Is  but  the  gleam  concomitant 

Of  that  waylaying  light. 
The  thought  is  quiet  as  a  flake,  — 

A  crash  without  a  sound ; 
How  life's  reverberation 

Its  explanation  found ! 


POEMS.  4 I 


XXVII. 

ON  the  bleakness  of  my  lot 
Bloom  I  strove  to  raise. 
Late,  my  acre  of  a  rock 
Yielded  grape  and  maize. 

Soil  of  flint  if  steadfast  tilled 
Will  reward  the  hand  ; 

Seed  of  palm  by  Lybian  sun 
Fructified  in  sand. 


42  POEMS. 


XXVIII. 
CONTRAST. 

A     DOOR  just  opened  on  a  street  — 
*^     I,  lost,  was  passing  by  — 
An  instant's  width  of  warmth  disclosed, 
And  wealth,  and  company. 

The  door  as  sudden  shut,  and  I, 

1,  lost,  was  passing  by,  — 
Lost  doubly,  but  by  contrast  most, 

Enlightening  misery. 


POEMS.  43 


XXIX. 

FRIENDS. 

ARE  friends  delight  or  pain  ? 
Could  bounty  but  remain 
Riches  were  good. 

But  if  they  only  stay 

Bolder  to  fly  away, 

Riches  are  sad. 


44  POEMS. 

XXX. 

FIRE. 


A  SHES  denote  that  fire  was ; 
**     Respect  the  grayest  pile 
For  the  departed  creature's  sake 
That  hovered  there  awhile. 


Fire  exists  the  first  in  light, 
And  then  consolidates,  — 

Only  the  chemist  can  disclose 
Into  what  carbonates. 


POEMS.  45 

XXXI. 

A  MAN. 


FATE  slew  him,  but  he  did  not  drop 
She  felled  —  he  did  not  fall  — 
Impaled  him  on  her  fiercest  stakes  — 
He  neutralized  them  all. 


She  stung  him,  sapped  his  firm  advance, 
But,  when  her  worst  was  done, 

And  he,  unmoved,  regarded  her, 
Acknowledged  him  a  man. 


46  POEMS. 


XXXII. 

VENTURES. 


to  fail,  but  infinite  to  venture. 
•*•       For  the  one  ship  that  struts  the  shore 
Many  's  the  gallant,  overwhelmed  creature 
Nodding  in  navies  nevermore. 


POEMS.  47 

XXXIII. 
GRIEFS. 

T  MEASURE  every  grief  I  meet 
•*•      With  analytic  eyes  ; 
I  wonder  if  it  weighs  like  mine, 
Or  has  an  easier  size. 

I  wonder  if  they  bore  it  long, 

Or  did  it  just  begin  ? 
I  could  not  tell  the  date  of  mine, 

It  feels  so  old  a  pain. 

I  wonder  if  it  hurts  to  live, 

And  if  they  have  to  try, 
And  whether,  could  they  choose  between, 

They  would  not  rather  die. 

I  wonder  if  when  years  have  piled  — 
Some  thousands  —  on  the  cause 

Of  early  hurt,  if  such  a  lapse 
Could  give  them  any  pause  *. 


48  POEMS. 

Or  would  they  go  on  aching  still 
Through  centuries  above, 

Enlightened  to  a  larger  pain 
By  contrast  with  the  love. 

The  grieved  are  many,  I  am  told ; 

The  reason  deeper  lies,  — 
Death  is  but  one  and  comes  but  once, 

And  only  nails  the  eyes. 

There  's  grief  of  want,  and  grief  of  cold, 
A  sort  they  call  '  despair ; ' 

There 's  banishment  from  native  eyes, 
In  sight  of  native  air. 

And  though  I  may  not  guess  the  kind 

Correctly,  yet  to  me 
A  piercing  comfort  it  affords 

In  passing  Calvary, 

To  note  the  fashions  of  the  cross, 
Of  those  that  stand  alone, 

Still  fascinated  to  presume 
That  some  are  like  my  own. 


POEMS.  49 

-../ 

XXXIV. 

T   HAVE  a  king  who  does  not  speak ; 
•*•     So,  wondering,  thro'  the  hours  meek 

I  trudge  the  day  away,  — 
Half  glad  when  it  is  night  and  sleep, 
If,  haply,  thro'  a  dream  to  peep 

In  parlors  shut  by  day. 

And  if  I  do,  when  morning  comes, 
It  is  as  if  a  hundred  drums 

Did  round  my  pillow  roll, 
And  shouts  fill  all  my  childish  sky, 
And  bells  keep  saying  '  victory ' 

From  steeples  in  my  soul ! 

And  if  I  don't,  the  little  Bird 
Within  the  Orchard  is  not  heard, 

And  I  omit  to  pray, 
'  Father,  thy  will  be  done  '  to-day, 
For  my  will  goes  the  other  way, 

And  it  were  perjury  ! 
4 


50  POEMS. 


XXXV. 
DISENCHANTMENT. 

T  T  dropped  so  low  in  my  regard 
•^       I  heard  it  hit  the  ground, 
And  go  to  pieces  on  the  stones 
At  bottom  of  my  mind ; 

Yet  blamed  the  fate  that  fractured, 

Than  I  reviled  myself 
For  entertaining  plated  wares 

Upon  my  silver  shelf. 


POEMS.  5 1 

XXXVI. 
LOST  FAITH. 

'"TO  lose  one's  faith  surpasses 
•^      The  loss  of  an  estate, 
Because  estates  can  be 

Replenished,  —  faith  cannot. 

Inherited  with  life, 

Belief  but  once  can  be ; 
Annihilate  a  single  clause, 

And  Being 's  beggary. 


POEMS. 

XXXVII. 
LOST  JOY. 

T   HAD  a  daily  bliss 
*       I  half  indifferent  viewed, 
Till  sudden  I  perceived  it  stir,  — 
It  grew  as  I  pursued, 

Till  when,  around  a  crag, 
It  wasted  from  my  sight, 

Enlarged  beyond  my  utmost  scope, 
I  learned  its  sweetness  right. 


POEMS.  5  3 


XXXVIII. 

T  WORKED  for  chaff,  and  earning  wheat 
•*•       Was  haughty  and  betrayed. 
What  right  had  fields  to  arbitrate 
In  matters  ratified  ? 

I  tasted  wheat,  —  and  hated  chaff, 
And  thanked  the  ample  friend ; 

Wisdom  is  more  becoming  viewed 
At  distance  than  at  hand. 


54  POEMS. 


XXXIX. 

T    IFE,  and  Death,  and  Giants 
•*— '     Such  as  these,  are  still. 
Minor  apparatus,  hopper  of  the  mill, 
Beetle  at  the  candle, 

Or  a  fife's  small  fame, 
Maintain  by  accident 

That  they  proclaim. 


POEMS.  55 


XL. 
ALPINE  GLOW. 

OUR  lives  are  Swiss,  — 
So  still,  so  cool, 
Till,  some  odd  afternoon, 
The  Alps  neglect  their  curtains, 
And  we  look  farther  on. 

Italy  stands  the  other  side, 
While,  like  a  guard  between, 

The  solemn  Alps, 

The  siren  Alps, 
Forever  intervene  ! 


56  POEMS. 


XLI. 
REMEMBRANCE. 


T3  EMEMBRANCE  has  a  rear  and  front, 
•^     'T  is  something  like  a  house ; 
It  has  a  garret  also 

For  refuse  and  the  mouse, 


Besides,  the  deepest  cellar 
That  ever  mason  hewed ; 

Look  to  it,  by  its  fathoms 
Ourselves  be  not  pursued. 


POEMS.  57 


XLII. 


TO  hang  our  head  ostensibly, 
And  subsequent  to  find 
That  such  was  not  the  posture 
Of  our  immortal  mind, 

Affords  the  sly  presumption 
That,  in  so  dense  a  fuzz, 

You,  too,  take  cobweb  attitudes 
Upon  a  plane  of  gauze  ! 


5  8  POEMS, 

XLIII. 
THE  BRAIN. 

HP  HE  brain  is  wider  than  the  sky, 
•*•      For,  put  them  side  by  side, 
The  one  the  other  will  include 
With  ease,  and  you  beside. 

The  brain  is  deeper  than  the  sea, 
For,  hold  them,  blue  to  blue, 

The  one  the  other  will  absorb, 
As  sponges,  buckets  do. 

The  brain  is  just  the  weight  of  God, 
For,  lift  them,  pound  for  pound, 

And  they  will  differ,  if  they  do, 
As  syllable  from  sound. 


POEMS.  59 


XLIV. 


'HPHE  bone  that  has  no  marrow 
•*•      What  ultimate  for  that? 
It  is  not  fit  for  table, 
For  beggar,  or  for  cat. 

A  bone  has  obligations, 
A  being  has  the  same ; 

A  marrowless  assembly 
Is  culpabler  than  shame. 

But  how  shall  finished  creatures 
A  function  fresh  obtain  ?  — 

Old  Nicodemus'  phantom 
Confronting  us  again ! 


6O  POEMS. 


XLV.  - 
THE   PAST. 


HP  HE  past  is  such  a  curious  creature, 
-*•      To  look  her  in  the  face 
A  transport  may  reward  us, 
Or  a  disgrace. 

Unarmed  if  any  meet  her, 

I  charge  him,  fly  ! 
Her  rusty  ammunition 

Might  yet  reply ! 


POEMS.  6 1 


XLVI. 

'"TO  help  our  bleaker  parts 
•*•       Salubrious  hours  are  given, 
Which  if  they  do  not  fit  for  earth 
Drill  silently  for  heaven. 


62  POEMS. 


XLVII. 

WHAT  soft,  cherubic  creatures 
These  gentlewomen  are ! 
One  would  as  soon  assault  a  plush 
Or  violate  a  star. 

Such  dimity  convictions, 

A  horror  so  refined 
Of  freckled  human  nature, 

Of  Deity  ashamed,  — 

It 's  such  a  common  glory, 

A  fisherman's  degree  ! 
Redemption,  brittle  lady, 

Be  so,  ashamed  of  thee. 


POEMS.  63 


XLVIII. 
DESIRE. 

TX  7HO  never  wanted,  —  maddest  joy 

*  *       Remains  to  him  unknown ; 
The  banquet  of  abstemiousness 
Surpasses  that  of  wine. 

Within  its  hope,  though  yet  ungrasped 

Desire's  perfect  goal, 
No  nearer,  lest  reality 

Should  disenthrall  thy  soul. 


64  POEMS. 


XLIX. 
PHILOSOPHY. 

T  T  might  be  easier 
•*•     To  fail  with  land  in  sight, 
Than  gain  my  blue  peninsula 
To  perish  of  delight. 


POEMS,  65 


L. 
POWER. 

"WOU  cannot  put  a  fire  out ; 
-••      A  thing  that  can  ignite 
Can  go,  itself,  without  a  fan 
Upon  the  slowest  night. 

You  cannot  fold  a  flood 
And  put  it  in  a  drawer,  — 

Because  the  winds  would  find  it  out, 
And  tell  your  cedar  floor. 


66  POEMS. 


LI. 

A    MODEST  lot,  a  fame  petite, 
•*"*•     A  brief  campaign  of  sting  and  sweet 

Is  plenty  !     Is  enough  ! 
A  sailor's  business  is  the  shore, 

A  soldier's  —  balls.    Who  asketh  more 
Must  seek  the  neighboring  life  ! 


POEMS.  67 


LII. 

T  S  bliss,  then,  such  abyss 

•*•     I  must  not  put  my  foot  amiss 

For  fear  I  spoil  my  shoe  ? 

I  'd  rather  suit  my  foot 
Than  save  my  boot, 
For  yet  to  buy  another  pair 
Is  possible 
At  any  fair. 

But  bliss  is  sold  just  once  ; 
The  patent  lost 
None  buy  it  any  more. 


POEMS. 

LIII. 
EXPERIENCE. 

T  STEPPED  from  plank  to  plank 
•*•     So  slow  and  cautiously ; 
The  stars  about  my  head  I  felt, 
About  my  feet  the  sea. 

I  knew  not  but  the  next 
Would  be  my  final  inch,  — 

This  gave  me  that  precarious  gait 
Some  call  experience. 


POEMS.  69 


LIV. 
THANKSGIVING  DAY. 

ONE  day  is  there  of  the  series 
Termed  Thanksgiving  day, 
Celebrated  part  at  table, 
Part  in  memory. 

Neither  patriarch  nor  pussy, 

I  dissect  the  play ; 
Seems  it,  to  my  hooded  thinking, 

Reflex  holiday. 

Had  there  been  no  sharp  subtraction 

From  the  early  sum, 
Not  an  acre  or  a  caption 

Where  was  once  a  room, 

Not  a  mention,  whose  small  pebble 

Wrinkled  any  bay,  — 
Unto  such,  were  such  assembly, 

'T  were  Thanksgiving  day. 


70  POEMS. 

LV. 

CHILDISH   GRIEFS. 

OOFTENED  by  Time's  consummate  plush, 
^     How  sleek  the  woe  appears 
That  threatened  childhood's  citadel 
And  undermined  the  years  ! 

Bisected  now  by  bleaker  griefs, 

We  envy  the  despair 
That  devastated  childhood's  realm, 

So  easy  to  repair. 


LOVE. 


POEMS.  73 


CONSECRATION. 

"PROUD  of  my  broken  heart  since  thou  didst  break  it, 
*       Proud  of  the  pain  I  did  not  feel  till  thee, 
Proud  of  my  night  since  thou  with  moons  dost  slake  it, 
Not  to  partake  thy  passion,  my  humility. 


74  POEMS. 

II. 

LOVE'S   HUMILITY. 

V/T  Y  worthiness  is  all  ray  doubt, 

His  merit  all  my  fear, 
Contrasting  which,  my  qualities 
Do  lowlier  appear ; 

Lest  I  should  insufficient  prove 

For  his  beloved  need, 
The  chiefest  apprehension 

Within  my  loving  creed. 

So  I,  the  undivine  abode 

Of  his  elect  content, 
Conform  my  soul  as  't  were  a  church 

Unto  her  sacrament. 


POEMS.  75 


III. 

LOVE. 

T    OVE  is  anterior  to  life, 
*-*     Posterior  to  death, 
Initial  of  creation,  and 
The  exponent  of  breath. 


76  POEMS. 


IV. 

SATISFIED. 

ONE  blessing  had  I,  than  the  rest 
So  larger  to  my  eyes 
That  I  stopped  gauging,  satisfied, 
For  this  enchanted  size. 

It  was  the  limit  of  my  dream, 
The  focus  of  my  prayer,  — 

A  perfect,  paralyzing  bliss 
Contented  as  despair. 

I  knew  no  more  of  want  or  cold, 

Phantasms  both  become, 
For  this  new  value  in  the  soul, 

Supremest  earthly  sum. 

The  heaven  below  the  heaven  above 
Obscured  with  ruddier  hue. 

Life's  latitude  leant  over-full ; 
The  judgment  perished,  too. 


POEMS,  77 

Why  joys  so  scantily  disburse, 

Why  Paradise  defer, 
Why  floods  are  served  to  us  in  bowls,  — 

I  speculate  no  more. 


78  POEMS. 


V. 

WITH  A  FLOWER. 

\\7 HEN  roses  cease  to  bloom,  dear, 

*  *       And  violets  are  done, 
When  bumble-bees  in  solemn  flight 
Have  passed  beyond  the  sun, 

The  hand  that  paused  to  gather 

Upon  this  summer's  day 
Will  idle  lie,  in  Auburn,  — 

Then  take  my  flower,  pray  ! 


POEMS.  79 

VI. 
SONG. 

OUMMER  for  thee  grant  I  may  be 
*"*     When  summer  days  are  flown  ! 
Thy  music  still  when  whippoorwill 
And  oriole  are  done  ! 

For  thee  to  bloom,  I  '11  skip  the  tomb 

And  sow  my  blossoms  o'er  ! 
Pray  gather  me,  Anemone, 

Thy  flower  forevermore ! 


80  POEMS. 

VII. 
LOYALTY. 

O  FLIT  the  lark  and  you  '11  find  the  music, 
^     Bulb  after  bulb,  in  silver  rolled, 
Scantily  dealt  to  the  summer  morning, 
Saved  for  your  ear  when  lutes  be  old. 

Loose  the  flood,  you  shall  find  it  patent, 
Gush  after  gush,  reserved  for  you ; 

Scarlet  experiment !  sceptic  Thomas, 

Now,  do  you  doubt  that  your  bird  was  true  ? 


POEMS.  8 1 


VIII. 

/"PO  lose  thee,  sweeter  than  to  gain 
-••      All  other  hearts  I  knew. 
'T  is  true  the  drought  is  destitute, 
But  then  I  had  the  dew ! 

The  Caspian  has  its  realms  of  sand, 

Its  other  realm  of  sea ; 
Without  the  sterile  perquisite 

No  Caspian  could  be. 


82  POEMS. 


IX. 

POOR  little  heart ! 
*^     Did  they  forget  thee? 
Then  dinna  care!    Then  dinna  care! 

Proud  little  heart ! 
Did  they  forsake  thee? 
Be  debonair  !    Be  debonair  ! 

Frail  little  heart ! 
I  would  not  break  thee : 
Could'st  credit  me  ?    Could'st  credit  me  ? 

Gay  little  heart ! 
Like  morning  glory 
Thou  '11  wilted  be ;  thou  '11  wilted  be  ! 


POEMS.  83 


X. 
FORGOTTEN. 

'"THERE  is  a  word 
•••      Which  bears  a  sword 

Can  pierce  an  armed  man. 
It  hurls  its  barbed  syllables,  — 

At  once  is  mute  again. 
But  where  it  fell 
The  saved  will  tell 

On  patriotic  day, 
Some  epauletted  brother 

Gave  his  breath  away. 

Wherever  runs  the  breathless  sun, 
Wherever  roams  the  day, 

There  is  its  noiseless  onset, 
There  is  its  victory  ! 


84  POEMS. 


Behold  the  keenest  marksman  ! 

The  most  accomplished  shot ! 
Time's  sublimest  target 

Is  a  soul  'forgot'  ! 


POEMS.  85 


XI. 

T  'VE  got  an  arrow  here ; 

•*•     Loving  the  hand  that  sent  it, 

I  the  dart  revere. 

Fell,  they  will  say,  in  '  skirmish ' ! 

Vanquished,  my  soul  will  know, 
By  but  a  simple  arrow 

Sped  by  an  archer's  bow. 


86  POEMS. 


XII. 
THE  MASTER. 

T  T  E  fumbles  at  your  spirit 
•*••*•     As  players  at  the  keys 
Before  they  drop  full  music  on ; 
He  stuns  you  by  degrees, 

Prepares  your  brittle  substance 

For  the  ethereal  blow, 
By  fainter  hammers,  further  heard, 

Then  nearer,  then  so  slow 

Your  breath  has  time  to  straighten, 
Your  brain  to  bubble  cool,  — 

Deals  one  imperial  thunderbolt 
That  scalps  your  naked  soul. 


POEMS,  87 


XIII. 

HEART,  we  will  forget  him  ! 
You  and  I,  to-night ! 
You  may  forget  the  warmth  he  gave, 
I  will  forget  the  light. 

When  you  have  done,  pray  tell  me, 
That  I  my  thoughts  may  dim ; 

Haste  !  lest  while  you  're  lagging, 
I  may  remember  him  ! 


88  POEMS, 


XIV. 

"pATHER,  I  bring  thee  not  myself, 
•*•       That  were  the  little  load  ; 
I  bring  thee  the  imperial  heart 
I  had  not  strength  to  hold. 

The  heart  I  cherished  in  my  own 

Till  mine  too  heavy  grew, 
Yet  strangest,  heavier  since  it  went, 

Is  it  too  large  for  you  ? 


POEMS.  89 


XV. 

T  X  7E  outgrow  love  like  other  things 

*  *       And  put  it  in  the  drawer, 
Till  it  an  antique  fashion  shows 
Like  costumes  grandsires  wore. 


90  POEMS. 


XVI. 

TVT  OT  with  a  club  the  heart  is  broken, 

Nor  with  a  stone  ; 

A  whip,  so  small  you  could  not  see  it, 
I  Ve  known 

To  lash  the  magic  creature 

Till  it  fell, 
Yet  that  whip's  name  too  noble 

Then  to  tell. 

Magnanimous  of  bird 

By  boy  descried, 
To  sing  unto  the  stone 

Of  which  it  died. 


POEMS.  91 


XVII. 
WHO? 


TVyT Y  friend  must  be  a  bird, 
•*•"•     Because  it  flies  ! 
Mortal  my  friend  must  be, 

Because  it  dies  ! 
Barbs  has  it,  like  a  bee. 
Ah,  curious  friend, 

Thou  puzzlest  me ! 


92  POEMS. 


XVIII. 

TT  E  touched  me,  so  I  live  to  know 
^  •*•     That  such  a  day,  permitted  so, 

I  groped  upon  his  breast. 
It  was  a  boundless  place  to  me, 
And  silenced,  as  the  awful  sea 

Puts  minor  streams  to  rest. 

And  now,  I  'm  different  from  before, 
As  if  I  breathed  superior  air, 

Or  brushed  a  royal  gown ; 
My  feet,  too,  that  had  wandered  so, 
My  gypsy  face  transfigured  now 

To  tenderer  renown. 


POEMS.  93 


XIX. 
DREAMS. 

T    ET  me  not  mar  that  perfect  dream 
•*— '     By  an  auroral  stain, 
But  so  adjust  my  daily  night 
That  it  will  come  again. 


94  POEMS. 


XX. 
NUMEN   LUMEN. 

T  LIVE  with  him,  I  see  his  face ; 
•^     I  go  no  more  away 
For  visitor,  or  sundown  ; 
Death's  single  privacy, 

The  only  one  forestalling  mine, 

And  that  by  right  that  he 
Presents  a  claim  invisible, 

No  wedlock  granted  me. 

I  live  with  him,  I  hear  his  voice, 

I  stand  alive  to-day 
To  witness  to  the  certainty 

Of  immortality 

Taught  me  by  Time,  —  the  lower  way, 

Conviction  every  day,  — 
That  life  like  this  is  endless, 

Be  judgment  what  it  may. 


POEMS.  95 


XXI. 
LONGING. 

T  ENVY  seas  whereon  he  rides, 
•*-     I  envy  spokes  of  wheels 
Of  chariots  that  him  convey, 
I  envy  speechless  hills 

That  gaze  upon  his  journey ; 

How  easy  all  can  see 
What  is  forbidden  utterly 

As  heaven,  unto  me  ! 

I  envy  nests  of  sparrows 
That  dot  his  distant  eaves, 

The  wealthy  fly  upon  his  pane, 
The  happy,  happy  leaves 

That  just  abroad  his  window 
Have  summer's  leave  to  be, 

The  earrings  of  Pizarro 
Could  not  obtain  for  me. 


96  POEMS. 


I  envy  light  that  wakes  him, 
And  bells  that  boldly  ring 

To  tell  him  it  is  noon  abroad,  — 
Myself  his  noon  could  bring, 

Yet  interdict  my  blossom 
And  abrogate  my  bee, 

Lest  noon  in  everlasting  night 
Drop  Gabriel  and  me. 


POEMS.  97 

XXII. 
WEDDED. 

A    SOLEMN  thing  it  was,  I  said, 

A  woman  white  to  be, 
And  wear,  if  God  should  count  me  fit, 
Her  hallowed  mystery. 

A  timid  thing  to  drop  a  life 

Into  the  purple  well, 
Too  plummetless  that  it  come  back 

Eternity  until. 


III. 

NATURE. 


POEMS.  10 1 


NATURE'S  CHANGES. 

THE  springtime's  pallid  landscape 
Will  glow  like  bright  bouquet, 
Though  drifted  deep  in  parian 
The  village  lies  to-day. 

The  lilacs,  bending  many  a  year, 
With  purple  load  will  hang ; 

The  bees  will  not  forget  the  tune 
Their  old  forefathers  sang. 

The  rose  will  redden  in  the  bog, 

The  aster  on  the  hill 
Her  everlasting  fashion  set, 

And  covenant  gentians  frill, 

Till  summer  folds  her  miracle 
As  women  do  their  gown, 

Or  priests  adjust  the  symbols 
When  sacrament  is  done. 


102  POEMS. 


II. 
THE  TULIP. 

0  HE  slept  beneath  a  tree 
*^     Remembered  but  by  me. 

1  touched  her  cradle  mute  ; 
She  recognized  the  foot, 
Put  on  her  carmine  suit,  — 

And  see ! 


POEMS.  103 


III. 

A    LIGHT  exists  in  spring 
•**•     Not  present  on  the  year 
At  any  other  period. 

When  March  is  scarcely  here 

A  color  stands  abroad 

On  solitary  hills 
That  science  cannot  overtake, 

But  human  nature  feds. 

It  waits  upon  the  lawn  ; 

It  shows  the  furthest  tree 
Upon  the  furthest  slope  we  know 

It  almost  speaks  to  me. 

Then,  as  horizons  step, 

Or  noons  report  away, 
Without  the  formula  of  sound, 

It  passes,  and  we  stay  : 


IO4  POEMS. 


A  quality  of  loss 

Affecting  our  content, 
As  trade  had  suddenly  encroached 

Upon  a  sacrament. 


POEMS.  105 


IV. 
THE  WAKING   YEAR. 

A    LADY  red  upon  the  hill 
•*^     Her  annual  secret  keeps ; 
A  lady  white  within  the  field 
In  placid  lily  sleeps ! 

The  tidy  breezes  with  their  brooms 
Sweep  vale,  and  hill,  and  tree  ! 

Prithee,  my  pretty  housewives  ! 
Who  may  expected  be  ? 

The  neighbors  do  not  yet  suspect ! 

The  woods  exchange  a  smile  — 
Orchard,  and  buttercup,  and  bird  — 

In  such  a  little  while  ! 

And  yet  how  still  the  landscape  stands, 
How  nonchalant  the  wood, 

As  if  the  resurrection 
Were  nothing  very  odd  1 


106  POEMS. 

V. 

TO  MARCH. 

"pvEAR  March,  come  in! 

M     How  glad  I  am  ! 

I  looked  for  you  before. 

Put  down  your  hat  — 

You  must  have  walked  — 

How  out  of  breath  you  are  ! 

Dear  March,  how  are  you  ? 

And  the  rest? 

Did  you  leave  Nature  well  ? 

Oh,  March,  come  right  upstairs  with  me, 

I  have  so  much  to  tell! 

I  got  your  letter,  and  the  birds' ; 

The  maples  never  knew 

That  you  were  coming,  —  I  declare, 

How  red  their  faces  grew ! 

But,  March,  forgive  me  — 

And  all  those  hills 


POEMS.  107 

You  left  for  me  to  hue  ; 
There  was  no  purple  suitable, 
You  took  it  all  with  you. 

Who  knocks  ?    That  April ! 

Lock  the  door ! 

I  will  not  be  pursued  ! 

He  stayed  away  a  year,  to  call 

When  I  am  occupied. 

But  trifles  look  so  trivial 

As  soon  as  you  have  come, 

That  blame  is  just  as  dear  as  praise 

And  praise  as  mere  as  blame. 


108  POEMS. 

VI. 
MARCH. 

T  X  7E  like  March,  his  shoes  are  purple, 

*  *       He  is  new  and  high ; 
Makes  he  mud  for  dog  and  peddler, 

Makes  he  forest  dry ; 
Knows  the  adder's  tongue  his  coming, 

And  begets  her  spot. 
Stands  the  sun  so  close  and  mighty 

That  our  minds  are  hot. 
News  is  he  of  all  the  others ; 

Bold  it  were  to  die 
With  the  blue-birds  buccaneering 

On  his  British  sky. 


POEMS.  109 


VII. 
DAWN. 


*VT  OT  knowing  when  the  dawn  will  come 
*  *      I  open  every  door ; 
Or  has  it  feathers  like  a  bird, 
Or  billows  like  a  shore  ? 


I  IO  POEMS. 


VIII. 

A    MURMUR  in  the  trees  to  note, 
**•     Not  loud  enough  for  wind ; 
A  star  not  far  enough  to  seek, 
Nor  near  enough  to  find ; 

A  long,  long  yellow  on  the  lawn, 

A  hubbub  as  of  feet ; 
Not  audible,  as  ours  to  us, 

But  dapperer,  more  sweet ; 

A  hurrying  home  of  little  men 

To  houses  unperceived, — 
All  this,  and  more,  if  I  should  tell, 

Would  never  be  believed. 

Of  robins  in  the  trundle  bed 

How  many  I  espy 
Whose  nightgowns  could  not  hide  the  wings, 

Although  I  heard  them  try  ! 


POEMS.  1 1 1 

But  then  I  promised  ne'er  to  tell ; 

How  could  I  break  my  word  ? 
So  go  your  way  and  I  '11  go  mine,  — 

No  fear  you  '11  miss  the  road. 


112  POEMS. 


IX. 

TV/fORNING  is  the  place  for  dew, 

Corn  is  made  at  noon, 
After  dinner  light  for  flowers, 
Dukes  for  setting  sun  ! 


POEMS.  113 


'"PO  my  quick  ear  the  leaves  conferred ; 
-*-      The  bushes  they  were  bells  ; 
I  could  not  find  a  privacy 
From  Nature's  sentinels. 

In  cave  if  I  presumed  to  hide, 

The  walls  began  to  tell; 
Creation  seemed  a  mighty  crack 

To  make  me  visible. 


114  POEMS. 


XI. 

A   ROSE. 

A  SEPAL,  petal,  and  a  thorn 
Upon  a  common  summer's  morn, 
A  flash  of  dew,  a  bee  or  two, 
A  breeze 

A  caper  in  the  trees,  — 
And  I  'm  a  rose  ! 


POEMS.  115 


XII. 

T_T  IGH  from  the  earth  I  heard  a  bird ; 
•*•         He  trod  upon  the  trees 
As  he  esteemed  them  trifles, 

And  then  he  spied  a  breeze, 
And  situated  softly 

Upon  a  pile  of  wind 
Which  in  a  perturbation 

Nature  had  left  behind. 
A  joyous-going  fellow 

I  gathered  from  his  talk, 
Which  both  of  benediction 

And  badinage  partook, 
Without  apparent  burden, 

I  learned,  in  leafy  wood 
He  was  the  faithful  father 

Of  a  dependent  brood  ; 
And  this  untoward  transport 

His  remedy  for  care,  — 
A  contrast  to  our  respites. 

How  different  we  are ! 


1 1 6  POEMS. 

XIII. 
COBWEBS. 

/~PHE  spider  as  an  artist 
•••      Has  never  been  employed 
Though  his  surpassing  merit 
Is  freely  certified 

By  every  broom  and  Bridget 
Throughout  a  Christian  land. 

Neglected  son  of  genius, 
I  take  thee  by  the  hand. 


POEMS. 


XIV. 
A   WELL. 

T  \  7  HAT  mystery  pervades  a  well ! 

*  *       The  water  lives  so  far, 
Like  neighbor  from  another  world 
Residing  in  a  jar. 

The  grass  does  not  appear  afraid ; 

I  often  wonder  he 
Can  stand  so  close  and  look  so  bold 

At  what  is  dread  to  me. 

Related  somehow  they  may  be,  — 
The  sedge  stands  next  the  sea, 

Where  he  is  floorless,  yet  of  fear 
No  evidence  gives  he. 

But  nature  is  a  stranger  yet ; 

The  ones  that  cite  her  most 
Have  never  passed  her  haunted  house, 

Nor  simplified  her  ghost. 


Il8  POEMS. 

To  pity  those  that  know  her  not 

Is  helped  by  the  regret 
That  those  who  know  her,  know  her  less 

The  nearer  her  they  get. 


POEMS.  1 19 


XV. 

'"PO  make  a  prairie  it  takes  a  clover 
-••      and  one  bee,  — 
One  clover,  and  a  bee, 
And  revery. 

The  revery  alone  will  do 
If  bees  are  few. 


120  POEMS. 


XVI. 
THE  WIND. 

TT  's  like  the  light,  — 
•*•     A  fashionless  delight 
It's  like  the  bee,— 
A  dateless  melody. 

It 's  like  the  woods, 
Private  like  breeze, 

Phraseless,  yet  it  stirs 
The  proudest  trees. 

It 's  like  the  morning,  — 
Best  when  it 's  done,  — 

The  everlasting  clocks 
Chime  noon. 


POEMS.  121 


XVII. 

A  DEW  sufficed  itself 
And  satisfied  a  leaf, 
And  felt,  '  how  vast  a  destiny  ! 
How  trivial  is  life  ! ' 

The  sun  went  out  to  work, 
The  day  went  out  to  play, 

But  not  again  that  dew  was  seen 
By  physiognomy. 

Whether  by  day  abducted, 
Or  emptied  by  the  sun 

Into  the  sea,  in  passing, 
Eternally  unknown. 


122  POEMS. 


XVIII. 
THE  WOODPECKER. 

T_f  IS  bill  an  auger  is, 
*••*      His  head,  a  cap  and  frill. 
He  laboreth  at  every  tree, — 
A  worm  his  utmost  goal. 


POEMS.  123 


XIX. 
A  SNAKE. 

OWEET  is  the  swamp  with  its  secrets, 
^     Until  we  meet  a  snake ; 
'T  is  then  we  sigh  for  houses, 

And  our  departure  take 
At  that  enthralling  gallop 

That  only  childhood  knows. 
A  snake  is  summer's  treason, 

And  guile  is  where  it  goes. 


124  POEMS. 


XX. 


C*  OULD  I  but  ride  indefinite, 
^-^     As  doth  the  meadow-bee, 
And  visit  only  where  I  liked, 
And  no  man  visit  me, 

And  flirt  all  day  with  buttercups, 
And  marry  whom  I  may, 

And  dwell  a  little  everywhere, 
Or  better,  run  away 

With  no  police  to  follow, 

Or  chase  me  if  I  do, 
Till  I  should  jump  peninsulas 

To  get  away  from  you,  — 

I  said,  but  just  to  be  a  bee 

Upon  a  raft  of  air, 
And  row  in  nowhere  all  day  long, 

And  anchor  off  the  bar,  — 
What  liberty  !     So  captives  deem 

Who  tight  in  dungeons  are. 


POEMS.  125 


XXI. 
THE  MOON. 

'"PHE  moon  was  but  a  chin  of  gold 
•*•      A  night  or  two  ago, 
And  now  she  turns  her  perfect  face 
Upon  the  world  below. 

Her  forehead  is  of  amplest  blond ; 

Her  cheek  like  beryl  stone ; 
Her  eye  unto  the  summer  dew 

The  likest  I  have  known. 

Her  lips  of  amber  never  part ; 

But  what  must  be  the  smile 
Upon  her  friend  she  could  bestow 

Were  such  her  silver  will ! 

And  what  a  privilege  to  be 

But  the  remotest  star ! 
For  certainly  her  way  might  pass 

Beside  your  twinkling  door. 


126  POEMS. 

Her  bonnet  is  the  firmament, 
The  universe  her  shoe, 

The  stars  the  trinkets  at  her  belt, 
Her  dimities  of  blue. 


POEMS,  127 


XXII. 
THE  BAT. 

'IP HE  bat  is  dun  with  wrinkled  wings 
•*-      Like  fallow  article, 
And  not  a  song  pervades  his  lips, 
Or  none  perceptible. 

His  small  umbrella,  quaintly  halved, 

Describing  in  the  air 
An  arc  alike  inscrutable,  — 

Elate  philosopher ! 

Deputed  from  what  firmament 

Of  what  astute  abode, 
Empowered  with  what  malevolence 

Auspiciously  withheld. 

To  his  adroit  Creator 

Ascribe  no  less  the  praise ; 
Beneficent,  believe  me, 

His  eccentricities. 


128  POEMS. 


XXIII. 
THE  BALLOON. 

VT'OU've  seen  balloons  set,  have  n't  you? 
•^      So  stately  they  ascend 
It  is  as  swans  discarded  you 
For  duties  diamond. 

Their  liquid  feet  go  softly  out 

Upon  a  sea  of  blond ; 
They  spurn  the  air  as  't  were  too  mean 

For  creatures  so  renowned. 

Their  ribbons  just  beyond  the  eye, 
They  struggle  some  for  breath, 

And  yet  the  crowd  applauds  below  ; 
They  would  not  encore  death. 

The  gilded  creature  strains  and  spins, 

Trips  frantic  in  a  tree, 
Tears  open  her  imperial  veins 

And  tumbles  in  the  sea. 


POEMS.  129 

The  crowd  retire  with  an  oath 

The  dust  in  streets  goes  down, 
And  clerks  in  counting-rooms  observe, 

'  'T  was  only  a  balloon.' 


130  POEMS. 

XXIV. 
EVENING. 

'HTHE  cricket  sang, 

And  set  the  sun, 

And  workmen  finished ,.  one  by  one, 
Their  seam  the  day  upon. 

The  low  grass  loaded  with  the  dew, 
The  twilight  stood  as  strangers  do 
With  hat  in  hand,  polite  and  new, 
To  stay  as  if,  or  go. 

A  vastness,  as  a  neighbor,  came,  — 
A  wisdom  without  face  or  name, 
A  peace,  as  hemispheres  at  home,  — 
And  so  the  night  became. 


POEMS.  131 


XXV. 
COCOON. 

TP\RAB  habitation  of  whom? 

"^>^     Tabernacle  or  tomb, 

Or  dome  of  worm, 

Or  porch  of  gnome, 

Or  some  elf's  catacomb? 


132  POEMS. 


XXVI. 

SUNSET. 

A    SLOOP  of  amber  slips  away 
"^^     Upon  an  ether  sea, 
And  wrecks  in  peace  a  purple  tar, 
The  son  of  ecstasy. 


POEMS.  133 

XXVII. 
AURORA. 

OF  bronze  and  blaze 
The  north,  to-night ! 

So  adequate  its  forms, 
So  preconcerted  with  itself, 

So  distant  to  alarms,  — 
An  unconcern  so  sovereign 

To  universe,  or  me, 
It  paints  my  simple  spirit 

With  tints  of  majesty, 
Till  I  take  vaster  attitudes, 

And  strut  upon  my  stem, 
Disdaining  men  and  oxygen, 

For  arrogance  of  them. 

My  splendors  are  menagerie  ; 

But  their  competeless  show 
Will  entertain  the  centuries 

When  I  am,  long  ago, 
An  island  in  dishonored  grass, 

Whom  none  but  daisies  know. 


1 34  POEMS. 


XXVIII. 
THE   COMING   OF   NIGHT. 

T  T  OW  the  old  mountains  drip  with  sunset, 
•*•  •*•     And  the  brake  of  dun ! 
How  the  hemlocks  are  tipped  in  tinsel 
By  the  wizard  sun ! 

How  the  old  steeples  hand  the  scarlet, 

Till  the  ball  is  full,  — 
Have  I  the  lip  of  the  flamingo 

That  I  dare  to  tell  ? 

Then,  how  the  fire  ebbs  like  billows, 

Touching  all  the  grass 
With  a  departing,  sapphire  feature, 

As  if  a  duchess  pass  ! 

How  a  small  dusk  crawls  on  the  village 

Till  the  houses  blot ; 
And  the  odd  flambeaux  no  men  carry 

Glimmer  on  the  spot ! 


POEMS.  135 

Now  it  is  night  in  nest  and  kennel, 

And  where  was  the  wood, 
Just  a  dome  of  abyss  is  nodding 

Into  solitude  !  — 

These  are  the  visions  baffled  Guido ; 

Titian  never  told ; 
Domenichino  dropped  the  pencil, 

Powerless  to  unfold. 


136  POEMS. 

XXIX. 
AFTERMATH. 

'IT HE  murmuring  of  bees  has  ceased  ; 
•*•      But  murmuring  of  some 
Posterior,  prophetic, 

Has  simultaneous  come,  — 

The  lower  metres  of  the  year, 
When  nature's  laugh  is  done,  — 

The  Revelations  of  the  book 
Whose  Genesis  is  June. 


IV. 
TIME  AND    ETERNITY. 


POEMS,  139 


I. 


'~PHIS  world  is  not  conclusion ; 
•••      A  sequel  stands  beyond, 
Invisible,  as  music, 

But  positive,  as  sound. 
It  beckons  and  it  baffles ; 

Philosophies  don't  know, 
And  through  a  riddle,  at  the  last, 

Sagacity  must  go. 
To  guess  it  puzzles  scholars ; 

To  gain  it,  men  have  shown 
Contempt  of  generations, 

And  crucifixion  known. 


140  POEMS. 


II. 


"\  \  7E  learn  in  the  retreating 

*        How  vast  an  one 
Was  recently  among  us. 
A  perished  sun 

Endears  in  the  departure 

How  doubly  more 
Than  all  the  golden  presence 

It  was  before ! 


POEMS.  141 


III. 

n^HEY  say  that '  time  assuages,' 
•*•       Time  never  did  assuage  ; 
An  actual  suffering  strengthens, 
As  sinews  do,  with  age. 

Time  is  a  test  of  trouble, 

But  not  a  remedy. 
If  such  it  prove,  it  prove  too 

There  was  no  malady. 


142  POEMS. 


IV. 


T  X  7E  cover  thee,  sweet  face. 

*  V       Not  that  we  tire  of  thee, 
But  that  thyself  fatigue  of  us ; 

Remember,  as  thou  flee, 
We  follow  thee  until 

Thou  notice  us  no  more, 
And  then,  reluctant,  turn  away 

To  con  thee  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  blame  the  scanty  love 

We  were  content  to  show, 
Augmented,  sweet,  a  hundred  fold 

If  thou  would'st  take  it  now. 


POEMS.  143 

V. 
ENDING. 


is  solemn  we  have  ended, 
•     Be  it  but  a  play, 
Or  a  glee  among  the  garrets, 
Or  a  holiday, 

Or  a  leaving  home  ;  or  later, 

Parting  with  a  world 
We  have  understood,  for  better 

Still  it  be  unfurled. 


144  POEMS. 


VI. 

HP  HE  stimulus,  beyond  the  grave 

His  countenance  to  see, 
Supports  me  like  imperial  drams 
Afforded  royally. 


POEMS.  145 


VII. 

f*  IVEN  in  marriage  unto  thee, 
V**      Oh,  thou  celestial  host ! 
Bride  of  the  Father  and  the  Son, 
Bride  of  the  Holy  Ghost ! 


Other  betrothal  shall  dissolve, 
Wedlock  of  will  decay  ; 

Only  the  keeper  of  this  seal 
Conquers  mortality. 


146  POEMS. 


VIII. 

HP  HAT  such  have  died  enables  us 
-1-       The  tranquiller  to  die  ; 
That  such  have  lived,  certificate 
For  immortality. 


POEMS.  147 


IX. 


HP  HEY  won't  frown  always,  —  some  sweet  day 
*~      When  I  forget  to  tease, 
They  '11  recollect  how  cold  I  looked, 

And  how  I  just  said  '  please.' 

Then  they  will  hasten  to  the  door 

To  call  the  little  child, 
Who  cannot  thank  them,  for  the  ice 

That  on  her  lisping  piled. 


148  POEMS, 

X. 

IMMORTALITY. 

TT  is  an  honorable  thought, 
-*•      And  makes  one  lift  one's  hat, 
As  one  encountered  gentlefolk 
Upon  a  daily  street, 

That  we  Ve  immortal  place, 
Though  pyramids  decay, 

And  kingdoms,  like  the  orchard, 
Flit  russetly  away. 


POEMS.  149 


XI. 

'"PHE  distance  that  the  dead  have  gone 

Does  not  at  first  appear ; 
Their  coming  back  seems  possible 
For  many  an  ardent  year. 

And  then,  that  we  have  followed  them 

We  more  than  half  suspect, 
So  intimate  have  we  become 

With  their  dear  retrospect. 


1 50  POEMS. 


XII. 

T  T  OW  dare  the  robins  sing, 

•*•         When  men  and  women  hear 

Who  since  they  went  to  their  account 

Have  settled  with  the  year  !  — 
Paid  all  that  life  had  earned 

In  one  consummate  bill, 
And  now,  what  life  or  death  can  do 

Is  immaterial. 
Insulting  is  the  sun 

To  him  whose  mortal  light, 
Beguiled  of  immortality, 

Bequeaths  him  to  the  night. 
In  deference  to  him 

Extinct  be  every  hum, 
Whose  garden  wrestles  with  the  dew, 

At  daybreak  overcome ! 


•  POEMS,  1 5  I 

XIII. 
DEATH. 


'TAEATH  is  like  the  insect 
-*-^     Menacing  the  tree, 
Competent  to  kill  it, 
But  decoyed  may  be. 

Bait  it  with  the  balsam, 
Seek  it  with  the  knife, 

Baffle,  if  it  cost  you 
Everything  in  life. 

Then,  if  it  have  burrowed 
Out  of  reach  of  skill, 

Ring  the  tree  and  leave  it,  — 
T  is  the  vermin's  will. 


152  POEMS. 

XIV. 
UNWARNED. 

""~P  IS  sunrise,  little  maid,  hast  thou 

-*-       No  station  in  the  day? 
*T  was  not  thy  wont  to  hinder  so,  — 

Retrieve  thine  industry. 

T  is  noon,  my  little  maid,  alas  ! 

And  art  thou  sleeping  yet  ? 
The  lily  waiting  to  be  wed, 

The  bee,  dost  thou  forget? 

My  little  maid,  't  is  night  ;  alas, 

That  night  should  be  to  thee 
Instead  of  morning  !     Hadst  thou  broached 

Thy  little  plan  to  me, 
Dissuade  thee  if  I  could  not,  sweet, 

I  might  have  aided  thee. 


POEMS.  153 


XV. 

T7  ACH  that  we  lose  takes  part  of  us ; 
-*-•'     A  crescent  still  abides, 
Which  like  the  moon,  some  turbid  night, 
Is  summoned  by  the  tides. 


154  POEMS. 


XVI. 

"VT  OT  any  higher  stands  the  grave 
•^  ^      For  heroes  than  for  men  ; 
Not  any  nearer  for  the  child 
Than  numb  three-score  and  ten. 

This  latest  leisure  equal  lulls 
The  beggar  and  his  queen ; 

Propitiate  this  democrat 
By  summer's  gracious  mien. 


POEMS.  155 

XVII. 
ASLEEP. 

A  S  far  from  pity  as  complaint, 
•**•     As  cool  to  speech  as  stone, 
As  numb  to  revelation 
As  if  my  trade  were  bone. 

As  far  from  time  as  history, 

As  near  yourself  to-day 
As  children  to  the  rainbow's  scarf, 

Or  sunset's  yellow  play 

To  eyelids  in  the  sepulchre. 

How  still  the  dancer  lies, 
While  color's  revelations  break, 

And  blaze  the  butterflies  ! 


1 56  POEMS. 


XVIII. 
THE   SPIRIT. 


"~P  IS  whiter  than  an  Indian  pipe, 
-*-       'T  is  dimmer  than  a  lace  ; 

No  stature  has  it,  like  a  fog, 
When  you  approach  the  place. 

Not  any  voice  denotes  it  here, 

Or  intimates  it  there  ; 
A  spirit,  how  doth  it  accost? 

What  customs  hath  the  air? 


This  limitless  hyperbole 
Each  one  of  us  shall  be  ; 

'T  is  drama,  if  (hypothesis) 
It  be  not  tragedy  ! 


POEMS.  157 


XIX. 
THE  MONUMENT. 

O  HE  laid  her  docile  crescent  down, 
^     And  this  mechanic  stone 
Still  states,  to  dates  that  have  forgot, 
The  news  that  she  is  gone. 

So  constant  to  its  stolid  trust, 
The  shaft  that  never  knew, 

It  shames  the  constancy  that  fled 
Before  its  emblem  flew. 


158  POEMS. 


XX. 


T3LESS  God,  he  went  as  soldiers, 
^—^     His  musket  on  his  breast ; 
Grant,  God,  he  charge  the  bravest 
Of  all  the  martial  blest. 


Please  God,  might  I  behold  him 

In  epauletted  white, 
I  should  not  fear  the  foe  then, 

I  should  not  fear  the  fight. 


POEMS.  159 


XXI. 

T  MMORTAL  is  an  ample  word 
A     When  what  we  need  is  by, 
But  when  it  leaves  us  for  a  time, 
'T  is  a  necessity. 

Of  heaven  above  the  firmest  proof 

We  fundamental  know, 
Except  for  its  marauding  hand, 

It  had  been  heaven  below. 


160  POEMS. 


XXII. 

WHERE  every  bird  is  bold  to  go, 
And  bees  abashless  play, 
The  foreigner  before  he  knocks 
Must  thrust  the  tears  away. 


POEMS.  l6l 


XXIII. 

/T~*HE  grave  my  little  cottage  is, 
-*•       Where,  keeping  house  for  thee, 
I  make  my  parlor  orderly, 
And  lay  the  marble  tea, 

For  two  divided,  briefly, 

A  cycle,  it  may  be, 
Till  everlasting  life  unite 

In  strong  society. 


1 62  POEMS. 


XXIV. 

HP  HIS  was  in  the  white  of  the  year, 
-*•       That  was  in  the  green, 
Drifts  were  as  difficult  then  to  think 
As  daisies  now  to  be  seen. 

Looking  back  is  best  that  is  left, 

Or  if  it  be  before, 
Retrospection  is  prospect's  half, 

Sometimes  almost  more. 


POEMS.  163 


XXV. 


O  WEET  hours  have  perished  here  ; 
^     This  is  a  mighty  room  ; 
Within  its  precincts  hopes  have  played,  — 
Now  shadows  in  the  tomb. 


164  POEMS. 


XXVI. 

IV/T  E !     Come  !     My  dazzled  face 
^•'•*-      In  such  a  shining  place  ! 

Me  !     Hear !     My  foreign  ear 
The  sounds  of  welcome  near ! 

The  saints  shall  meet 
Our  bashful  feet. 

My  holiday  shall  be 
That  they  remember  me ; 

My  paradise,  the  fame 

That  they  pronounce  my  name. 


POEMS.  165 

XXVII. 
INVISIBLE. 

T^ROM  us  she  wandered  now  a  year, 
•*•       Her  tarrying  unknown  ; 
If  wilderness  prevent  her  feet, 
Or  that  ethereal  zone 

No  eye  hath  seen  and  lived, 

We  ignorant  must  be. 
We  only  know  what  time  of  year 

We  took  the  mystery. 


1 66  POEMS. 


XXVIII. 

T  WISH  I  knew  that  woman's  name, 
•*•     So,  when  she  comes  this  way, 
To  hold  my  life,  and  hold  my  ears, 
For  fear  I  hear  her  say 

She  's  '  sorry  I  am  dead,'  again, 

Just  when  the  grave  and  I 
Have  sobbed  ourselves  almost  to  sleep, 

Our  only  lullaby. 


POEMS.  167 


XXIX. 
TRYING  TO   FORGET. 

"DEREAVED  of  all,  I  went  abroad, 
•*-'     No  less  bereaved  to  be 
Upon  a  new  peninsula,  — 
The  grave  preceded  me, 

Obtained  my  lodgings  ere  myself, 
And  when  I  sought  my  bed, 

The  grave  it  was,  reposed  upon 
The  pillow  for  my  head. 

I  waked,  to  find  it  first  awake, 

I  rose,  —  it  followed  me ; 
I  tried  to  drop  it  in  the  crowd, 

To  lose  it  in  the  sea, 

In  cups  of  artificial  drowse 
To  sleep  its  shape  away,  — 

The  grave  was  finished,  but  the  spade 
Remained  in  memory. 


1 68  POEMS. 


XXX. 

T  FELT  a  funeral  in  my  brain, 

And  mourners,  to  and  fro, 
Kept  treading,  treading,  till  it  seemed 
That  sense  was  breaking  through. 

And  when  they  all  were  seated, 

A  service  like  a  drum 
Kept  beating,  beating,  till  I  thought 

My  mind  was  going  numb. 

And  then  I  heard  them  lift  a  box, 
And  creak  across  my  soul 

With  those  same  boots  of  lead,  again. 
Then  space  began  to  toll 

As  all  the  heavens  were  a  bell, 

And  Being  but  an  ear, 
And  I  and  silence  some  strange  race, 

Wrecked,  solitary,  here. 


POEMS. 


XXXI. 

T  MEANT  to  find  her  when  I  came 
•*•      Death  had  the  same  design  ; 
But  the  success  was  his,  it  seems, 
And  the  discomfit  mine. 

I  meant  to  tell  her  how  I  longed 

For  just  this  single  time  ; 
But  Death  had  told  her  so  the  first, 

And  she  had  hearkened  him. 

To  wander  now  is  my  abode ; 

To  rest,  —  to  rest  would  be 
A  privilege  of  hurricane 

To  memory  and  me. 


I/O  POEMS. 

XXXII. 
WAITING. 


T  SING  to  use  the  waiting, 
•^     My  bonnet  but  to  tie, 
And  shut  the  door  unto  my  house 
No  more  to  do  have  I, 

Till,  his  best  step  approaching, 

We  journey  to  the  day, 
And  tell  each  other  how  we  sang 

To  keep  the  dark  away. 


POEMS. 


XXXIII. 

A    SICKNESS  of  this  world  it  most  occasions 
•*"*     When  best  men  die  ; 
A  wishfulness  their  far  condition 
To  occupy. 

A  chief  indifference,  as  foreign 

A  world  must  be 
Themselves  forsake  contented, 

For  Deity. 


1 72  POEMS. 


XXXIV. 

O  UPERFLUOUS  were  the  sun 
**•*     When  excellence  is  dead  ; 
He  were  superfluous  every  day, 
For  every  day  is  said 

That  syllable  whose  faith 
Just  saves  it  from  despair, 

And  whose  '  I  '11  meet  you  '  hesitates 
If  love  inquire,  '  Where  ? ' 

Upon  his  dateless  fame 

Our  periods  may  lie, 
As  stars  that  drop  anonymous 

From  an  abundant  sky. 


POEMS.  1 73 


XXXV. 

O  O  proud  she  was  to  die 
^     It  made  us  all  ashamed 
That  what  we  cherished,  so  unknown 
To  her  desire  seemed. 

So  satisfied  to  go 

Where  none  of  us  should  be, 
Immediately,  that  anguish  stooped 

Almost  to  jealousy. 


1 74  POEMS. 


XXXVI. 
FAREWELL. 

HPIE  the  strings  to  my  life,  my  Lord, 

Then  I  am  ready  to  go  ! 
Just  a  look  at  the  horses  — 
Rapid  !     That  will  do  ! 

Put  me  in  on  the  firmest  side, 

So  I  shall  never  fall ; 
For  we  must  ride  to  the  Judgment, 

And  it 's  partly  down  hill. 

But  never  I  mind  the  bridges. 

And  never  I  mind  the  sea ; 
Held  fast  in  everlasting  race 

By  my  own  choice  and  thee. 

Good-by  to  the  life  I  used  to  live, 
And  the  world  I  used  to  know ; 

And  kiss  the  hills  for  me,  just  once  ; 
Now  I  am  ready  to  go ! 


POEMS.  175 


XXXVII. 

TTHE  dying  need  but  little,  dear,- 
-*•       A  glass  of  water 's  all, 
A  flower's  unobtrusive  face 
To  punctuate  the  wall, 

A  fan,  perhaps,  a  friend's  regret, 

And  certainly  that  one 
No  color  in  the  rainbow 

Perceives  when  you  are  gone. 


1 76  POEMS. 

XXXVIII. 
DEAD. 


'"PHERE  's  something  quieter  than  sleep 
•^       Within  this  inner  room  ! 
It  wears  a  sprig  upon  its  breast, 
And  will  not  tell  its  name. 


Some  touch  it  and  some  kiss  it, 
Some  chafe  its  idle  hand ; 

It  has  a  simple  gravity 
I  do  not  understand  ! 

While  simple-hearted  neighbors 
Chat  of  the  '  early  dead,' 

We,  prone  to  periphrasis, 

Remark  that  birds  have  fled  ! 


POEMS.  177 


XXXIX. 

npHE  soul  should  always  stand  ajar, 
•*•      That  if  the  heaven  inquire, 
He  will  not  be  obliged  to  wait, 
Or  shy  of  troubling  her. 

Depart,  before  the  host  has  slid 

The  bolt  upon  the  door, 
To  seek  for  the  accomplished  guest,  — 

Her  visitor  no  more. 


1 78  POEMS. 


XL. 

HPHREE  weeks  passed  since  I  had  seen  her, 
•*•      Some  disease  had  vexed  ; 
Twas  with  text  and  village  singing 
I  beheld  her  next, 

And  a  company  —  our  pleasure 

To  discourse  alone ; 
Gracious  now  to  me  as  any, 

Gracious  unto  none. 

Borne,  without  dissent  of  either, 

To  the  parish  night ; 
Of  the  separated  people 

Which  are  out  of  sight  ? 


POEMS.  1 79 


XLI. 

T  BREATHED  enough  to  learn  the  trick, 

And  now,  removed  from  air, 
I  simulate  the  breath  so  well, 
That  one,  to  be  quite  sure 

The  lungs  are  stirless,  must  descend 

Among  the  cunning  cells, 
And  touch  the  pantomime  himself. 

How  cool  the  bellows  feels  ! 


180  POEMS. 


XLII. 

T  WONDER  if  the  sepulchre 
•••     Is  not  a  lonesome  way, 
When  men  and  boys,  and  larks  and  June 
Go  down  the  fields  to  hay ! 


POEMS. 

XLIII. 
JOY  IN   DEATH. 

T  F  tolling  bell  I  ask  the  cause. 
•*•       '  A  soul  has  gone  to  God/ 
I  'm  answered  in  a  lonesome  tone ; 
Is  heaven  then  so  sad  ? 

That  bells  should  joyful  ring  to  tell 
A  soul  had  gone  to  heaven, 

Would  seem  to  me  the  proper  way 
A  good  news  should  be  given. 


1 82  POEMS. 


XLIV. 

T  F  I  may  have  it  when  it 's  dead 
•*•     I  will  contented  be ; 
If  just  as  soon  as  breath  is  out 
It  shall  belong  to  me, 

Until  they  lock  it  in  the  grave, 

'T  is  bliss  I  cannot  weigh, 
For  though  they  lock  thee  in  the  grave, 

Myself  can  hold  the  key. 

Think  of  it,  lover  !  I  and  thee 
Permitted  face  to  face  to  be  ; 

After  a  life,  a  death  we  '11  say,  — 
For  death  was  that,  and  this  is  thee. 


POEMS.  183 


XLV. 

BEFORE  the  ice  is  in  the  pools, 
Before  the  skaters  go, 
Or  any  cheek  at  nightfall 
Is  tarnished  by  the  snow, 

Before  the  fields  have  finished, 
Before  the  Christmas  tree, 

Wonder  upon  wonder 
Will  arrive  to  me  ! 

What  we  touch  the  hems  of 

On  a  summer's  day ; 
What  is  only  walking 

Just  a  bridge  away  ; 

That  which  sings  so,  speaks  so, 
When  there  's  no  one  here,  — 

Will  the  frock  I  wept  in 
Answer  me  to  wear? 


1 84  POEMS. 


XLVI. 
DYING. 

T  HEARD  a  fly  buzz  when  I  died ; 
-*•     The  stillness  round  my  form 
Was  like  the  stillness  in  the  air 
Between  the  heaves  of  storm. 

The  eyes  beside  had  wrung  them  dry, 
And  breaths  were  gathering  sure 

For  that  last  onset,  when  the  king 
Be  witnessed  in  his  power. 

I  willed  my  keepsakes,  signed  away 

What  portion  of  me  I 
Could  make  assignable,  —  and  then 

There  interposed  a  fly, 

With  blue,  uncertain,  stumbling  buzz, 
Between  the  light  and  me  ; 

And  then  the  windows  failed,  and  then 
I  could  not  see  to  see. 


POEMS.  185 


XLVII. 

A  DRIFT  !     A  little  boat  adrift ! 
And  night  is  coming  down  ! 
Will  no  one  guide  a  little  boat 
Unto  the  nearest  town  ? 


So  sailors  say,  on  yesterday, 
Just  as  the  dusk  was  brown, 

One  little  boat  gave  up  its  strife, 
And  gurgled  down  and  down. 

But  angels  say,  on  yesterday, 

Just  as  the  dawn  was  red, 
One  little  boat  o'erspent  with  gales 
Retrimmed  its  masts,  redecked  its  sails 

Exultant,  onward  sped  ! 


1 86  POEMS. 


XLVIII. 


HPHERE  's  been  a  death  in  the  opposite  house 
•*•       As  lately  as  to-day. 
I  know  it  by  the  numb  look 
Such  houses  have  alway. 


The  neighbors  rustle  in  and  out, 

The  doctor  drives  away. 
A  window  opens  like  a  pod, 

Abrupt,  mechanically ; 

Somebody  flings  a  mattress  out, — 

The  children  hurry  by ; 
They  wonder  if  It  died  on  that,  — 

I  used  to  when  a  boy. 

The  minister  goes  stiffly  in 

As  if  the  house  were  his, 
And  he  owned  all  the  mourners  now, 

And  little  boys  besides  ; 


POEMS.  1 87 

And  then  the  milliner,  and  the  man 

Of  the  appalling  trade, 
To  take  the  measure  of  the  house. 

There  '11  be  that  dark  parade 

Of  tassels  and  of  coaches  soon  ; 

It 's  easy  as  a  sign,  — 
The  intuition  of  the  news 

In  just  a  country  town. 


1 88  POEMS. 


XLIX. 

T  \  7E  never  know  we  go,  —  when  we  are  going 

*  *       We  jest  and  shut  the  door ; 
Fate  following  behind  us  bolts  it, 

And  we  accost  no  more. 


POEMS.  189 


THE  SOUL'S   STORM. 

T  T  struck  me  every  day 

The  lightning  was  as  new 
As  if  the  cloud  that  instant  slit 
And  let  the  fire  through. 

It  burned  me  in  the  night, 
It  blistered  in  my  dream  ; 

It  sickened  fresh  upon  my  sight 
With  every  morning's  beam. 

I  thought  that  storm  was  brief,  — 
The  maddest,  quickest  by  ; 

But  Nature  lost  the  date  of  this, 
And  left  it  in  the  sky. 


190  POEMS. 


LI. 

ATER  is  taught  by  thirst ; 

Land,  by  the  oceans  passed ; 
Transport,  by  throe  ; 
Peace,  by  its  battles  told  ; 
Love,  by  memorial  mould  ; 
Birds,  by  the  snow. 


POEMS.  191 

LII. 

THIRST. 

TX7E  thirst  at  first,  —  't  is  Nature's  act ; 

*  And  later,  when  we  die, 

A  little  water  supplicate 
Of  fingers  going  by. 

It  intimates  the  finer  want, 

Whose  adequate  supply 
Is  that  great  water  in  the  west 

Termed  immortality. 


192  POEMS. 


LIII. 

A    CLOCK  stopped  —  not  the  mantel's  ; 
**     Geneva's  farthest  skill 
Can't  put  the  puppet  bowing 
That  just  now  dangled  still. 

An  awe  came  on  the  trinket ! 

The  figures  hunched  with  pain, 
Then  quivered  out  of  decimals 

Into  degreeless  noon. 

It  will  not  stir  for  doctors, 

This  pendulum  of  snow  ; 
The  shopman  importunes  it, 

While  cool,  concernless  No 

Nods  from  the  gilded  pointers, 

Nods  from  the  seconds  slim, 
Decades  of  arrogance  between 

The  dial  life  and  him. 


POEMS.  193 

LIV. 
CHARLOTTE  BRONTE'S  GRAVE. 

A  LL  overgrown  by  cunning  moss, 
^~*     All  interspersed  with  weed, 
The  little  cage  of  '  Currer  Bell,' 
In  quiet  Haworth  laid. 

This  bird,  observing  others, 

When  frosts  too  sharp  became, 
Retire  to  other  latitudes, 

Quietly  did  the  same, 

But  differed  in  returning  ; 

Since  Yorkshire  hills  are  green, 
Yet  not  in  all  the  nests  I  meet 

Can  nightingale  be  seen. 

Gathered  from  many  wanderings, 

Gethsemane  can  tell 
Through  what  transporting  anguish 

She  reached  the  asphodel ! 
13 


194  POEMS. 


Soft  fall  the  sounds  of  Eden 

Upon  her  puzzled  ear ; 
Oh,  what  an  afternoon  for  heaven, 

When  '  Bronte '  entered  there  ! 


POEMS.  195 


LV. 

A    TOAD  can  die  of  light ! 
•^     Death  is  the  common  right 

Of  toads  and  men,  — 
Of  earl  and  midge 
The  privilege. 

Why  swagger  then  ? 
The  gnat's  supremacy 
Is  large  as  thine. 


196  POEMS. 


LVI. 


T^AR  from  love  the  Heavenly  Father 
•*•   Leads  the  chosen  child  ; 
Oftener  through  realm  of  briar 
Than  the  meadow  mild, 

Oftener  by  the  claw  of  dragon 

Than  the  hand  of  friend, 
Guides  the  little  one  predestined 

To  the  native  land. 


POEMS.  197 


LVII. 
SLEEPING. 

ALONG,  long  sleep,  a  famous  sleep 
That  makes  no  show  for  dawn 
By  stretch  of  limb  or  stir  of  lid,  — 
An  independent  one. 

Was  ever  idleness  like  this  ? 

Within  a  hut  of  stone 
To  bask  the  centuries  away 

Nor  once  look  up  for  noon  ? 


POEMS. 


LVIII. 
RETROSPECT. 

"~P  WAS  just  this  time  last  year  I  died. 

•*•      I  know  I  heard  the  corn, 
When  I  was  carried  by  the  farms,  — 

It  had  the  tassels  on. 

I  thought  how  yellow  it  would  look 
When  Richard  went  to  mill ; 

And  then  I  wanted  to  get  out, 
But  something  held  my  will. 

I  thought  just  how  red  apples  wedged 
The  stubble's  joints  between  ; 

And  carts  went  stooping  round  the  fields 
To  take  the  pumpkins  in. 

I  wondered  which  would  miss  me  least, 
And  when  Thanksgiving  came, 

If  father  'd  multiply  the  plates 
To  make  an  even  sum. 


POEMS.  199 

And  if  my  stocking  hung  too  high, 
Would  it  blur  the  Christmas  glee, 

That  not  a  Santa  Glaus  could  reach 
The  altitude  of  me  ? 


But  this  sort  grieved  myself,  and  so 

I  thought  how  it  would  be 
When  just  this  time,  some  perfect  year, 

Themselves  should  come  to  me. 


2OO  POEMS. 

LIX. 

ETERNITY. 

ON  this  wondrous  sea, 
Sailing  silently, 
Ho  !  pilot,  ho  ! 
Knowest  thou  the  shore 
Where  no  breakers  roar, 
Where  the  storm  is  o'er? 

In  the  silent  west 
Many  sails  at  rest, 

Their  anchors  fast ; 
Thither  I  pilot  thee.  — 
Land,  ho  !     Eternity  ! 

Ashore  at  last ! 


Los  Angeles 
This  book  is.  .DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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;  7 1975 


MW 


rO  WEEKS  FROM  DATE  OF  RECEIPT 
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3    llbtf    UUI^b    41 Z5 

PS 


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